Tough Love
by thirteenchrysanthemums
Summary: A ridiculously attractive female gangster. An officer who can't keep his libido in check. Sexual tension ensues.
1. Chapter 1

"Captain! Please wake up!"

Sougo takes his time opening his eyes, making use of the fact that nobody can tell whether he's responded to the intrusive voice due to his sleeping mask. He takes a while to gather his surroundings and once he realises that he's not actually burying the mayora alive under gallons of mayonnaise, rage overtakes his senses.

Which dipshit _dares_ to rouse him from one of the best dreams of his life?

"Captain! It's an emergency!"

Yes. Yes it is. The idiot who woke him up is about to be maimed, _severely_.

At an achingly slow pace, the 24-year-old removes his sleeping mask. Impassive crimson irises catch sight of an out-of-breath Yamazaki. Only the Shinsengumi's spy would be brave (stupid) enough to awaken their first division captain.

Before he can punish the foolish subordinate with a surprise German suplex, he hears something interesting,

"Someone from the Yato clan has destroyed Saikai Park!"

Normally news about this particular group wouldn't faze him in the slightest. The Yato clan is possibly the most ruthless group of gangsters in Japan, notorious for their ridiculously powerful fighters and uncontrollable bloodlust. Almost every other day the Shinsengumi come into contact with these lawbreakers and more often than not they return worse for wear.

As a police officer, Okita himself has had a few run-ins with these mobsters and even he rarely comes out of these encounters unscathed. They cause trouble with their presence alone; so this is nothing new to him. Normally he would trick his Vice Captain into accepting these missions but since Saikai Park happens to be Okita's favourite place to patrol (slack off at).

"The bench?"

The spy visibly trembles as he whispers almost inaudibly, "It's shattered."

Calmly walking out of the headquarters, Yamazaki doesn't miss the way Sougo's lips turn upwards into a maniacal grin. He shudders. The poor soul who broke his taichou's bench is about to be beaten within an inch of his life, healed, and then beaten all over again,_ if he's lucky_.

* * *

><p>When Okita arrives at the park, revenge for the demolition of his sleeping spot is the only thing he seeks. It is no secret that that is <em>his <em>bench: _his _to use and to destroy. The Yato clansman who shattered it has just signed his own death warrant.

So imagine his surprise when he finds a woman - not a man - in the middle of the bloodbath.

A _beautiful _woman at that.

He doesn't mean beautiful in a conventional sense either, for the officer has yet to see her face. But what he is able to see from this distance, he very much likes. Vermillion locks sway with every turn of her head. Strong, lithe limbs flex with each graceful - yet bone shattering - blow she delivers to her opponents, his allies. In this moment the park isn't a battlefield but a stage. This creature isn't fighting but dancing to the erratic beat of violence, painting this scene with the blood of those who have the gall to defy her.

Sougo knows she's the enemy yet he can't help but watch the tigress in action. His sadistic nature draws him to her violent, uncontrollable dance (but who would ever want to control such passion in the first place?).

Is it wrong for him to admit that he has a boner from watching her single-handedly pulverize his comrades?

That's what they get though, for trying to control what cannot be. Her wild, vivacious persona can only be tamed by one who shares in her passion. And boy does his passion burn brightly for her. Heck if she hadn't annihilated them for their wimpy behaviour, he would have done so himself. Judging by their wails of agony he is confident that the intensity of the pain she bestows upon his subordinates is almost on par with his. And that just makes him want her even more.

Right from her first throat-punch, he mentally declared her as his. Nobody has the right to touch what belongs to him.

Like a flame she is enchanting but deadly: luring you in yet burning you if you get too close. The sadist in him craves to dominate this fiery spirit. The lesser-known masochist in him craves to be subjected to whatever punishment she would give him.

She's fire personified, and Okita likes playing with fire.

He completely forgets that she broke his bench.

* * *

><p>"Oi." He calls out to her as she punches some poor soul's face in repetitively without sparing him a glance. Chuckling, he walks up to her, standing directly behind her crouched form. With her back to him all he observes of the woman is her Chinese-styled hairdo and pale skin. "What's an illegal immigrant like you doing here?"<p>

She continues to ignore him until he mutters "Just go back to China already."

Whipping around she glares daggers at the officer, stunning him momentarily with the intensity of her gaze. Cheeks flushed in anger, piercing cerulean irises, thin lips pursed in irritation, - if he thought she was beautiful based on her fighting form from afar, she's even better up close.

But he'd never tell her that.

Squashing his raging hormones Okita raises an eyebrow in feigned disinterest.

"What's wrong China?" He cackles internally at her obvious rage from his nickname, "Does your homeland not accept shemales?"

One moment he's towering over her, the next he's flat on his back with her straddling him. "Baka tax-robber," she whispers into his ear and it takes all his willpower to not growl at the tingling sensation of her breath on his neck, "both you and I know that I'm definitely…" she presses her breasts against his chest, "…100%..." and grinds her hips into his, "…female."

He stifles his groan and flips them over to assume the dominant role. Holding both her wrists captive with one hand, she's surprised (and even slightly impressed) to find herself unable to break free of his hold. Touching her forehead with his he murmurs "I'm interested in women, not little girls."

Although he is well aware that this vixen is certainly not a little girl - he silently congratulated puberty for doing such a marvellous job - Sougo is in no way about to willingly display his sexual attraction to this delinquent.

That doesn't mean he won't tease her at every given opportunity.

But first thing's first: grabbing a pair of handcuffs with his free hand he cuffs her slender wrists, blatantly taking pleasure in her flabbergasted expression. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his twisted mind, Sougo imagines another scene where he could use those handcuffs–

"It took you long enough Sougo."

That cockblocking Hijikata. He'll be sure to poison his mayonnaise for dinner tonight.

Okita stands up, roughly pulling the China girl by her handcuffs. Shoving her into the police car like a sack of potatoes, the officers ignore the string of expletives that leave her mouth at being manhandled. He moves to sit at the back with their criminal when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"You won't be sitting with her until you can control your hormones."

The look in the older man's eyes show no hint of a joke, but the smoker has always been a serious person. Sougo knows that his superior saw the interaction between the two of them so he says the only thing that comes to mind.

"Die Hijikata."

"You die first!"

Okita sits in the front seat, ignoring his Vice-Captain's rant (something about public behaviour and seppuku) and eyeing the woman in the back seat from the rear-view mirror.

All the while during the car ride to the headquarters, one question lingers in his mind.

If the China girl is strong enough to hold her own against a wave of police officers, why did she surrender so quickly to him?


	2. Chapter 2

"She's out of control."

Okita looks up from the straw doll in his hands to find the Vice Commander pacing about outside his chambers. He smirks at the frustration evident on the older man's features and silently applauds the China girl for causing him such psychological distress.

He could only be talking about the China girl after all. What other out-of-control woman could be lurking about in the headquarters?

Now that he thinks about it, there's always Kondo-san's…

"Do something about it."

Fucking Hijikata, disrupting his trail of thought.

Gracefully rising from his seated position, Sougo chucks the doll at his colleague's face, ("EH?! WHY DOES THIS DOLL LOOK LIKE ME?! AND WHY DOES IT HAVE NEEDLES STICKING OUT OF IT?") and makes his way to the interrogation room.

* * *

><p>"Kagura-san, please cooperate." He can hear Yamazaki's quivering voice from outside the room. His shoulders stiffen. <em>This <em>is Kagura of the Yato clan? Daughter of the leader of the most feared group of gangsters? No wonder why she seemed stronger and more seasoned for combat than most Yatos.

Because their group relies so much on physical power, they use strength to determine their leaders. Only the strongest Yato is fit to lead as they'd have enough strength to subdue any of their subordinates. Furthermore, since their enhanced strength is a genetic trait, the position of authority is often passed down within the immediate family.

Umibouzu's power runs through her veins, meaning that the woman they have in their interrogation room is potentially the most powerful woman on the planet.

Bending her to his will would be all the more satisfying.

Sougo can already imagine the sadistic fantasies he would get to play out with her as his M... or maybe the both of them would be S-es and force everyone into submission. Yes, she would make a fit queen of Sadists for now. But once he's done with her he'll certainly dethrone the woman and make her his slave.

The sadist in him giggles with glee at the prospect of this woman as his playmate.

* * *

><p>"Go suck your mother's tits!"<p>

She doesn't know what pleases her more: the look of barely-concealed anger in the plain man's face or the fact that - based on the poorly concerned trembles of his legs - he's far too frightened to defend himself from her onslaught of insults.

Since the moment they "arrested" her, she's been bored out of her mind. Kagura honestly hoped that a different environment would be more fun and would give her a chance to explore the outer world. Despite belonging to a notorious gang, the redhead has never been in a police station until now (what kind of Yato would she be if she constantly lets herself get caught by sweaty men in smelly suits?). Now that she's in one, it's really nothing to shout about. It's actually quite embarrassing.

She almost regrets letting herself be caught. She'd expected to see an army of overly-muscular men (but then again what would 'overly-muscular' mean to a girl who's regularly exposed to the most physically well-built criminals in Japan on a daily basis?) all under the command of one incredibly badass commander.

But what does she get?

A group of feeble otakus that she could - and did - crush with her pinky and a leader who is essentially a crossbreed between man and gorilla. What's more, their commander's nudist tendencies are getting way too out of hand. If the unsightly image of his face hasn't mentally scarred her, the constant flashing of his genitals is enough to make a blind man cry.

Maybe it's a blessing for her to be here in this bland room with this bland guy whose obsession with anpan is way past the point of normality. This way she doesn't have to face the revolting image of a gorilla's penis and can waste her time annoying the anpan-coated shit out of this ridiculously boring human being.

However, the fun stops once the flaxen-haired boy enters the dimly-lit room.

* * *

><p>Irritation consumes her entire being once she feels his presence. It requires all of her self-control to not rip out of her flimsy handcuffs, jump out of her chair, reach across the table and strangle the douchebag to his untimely (but certainly not unfortunate) death.<p>

Much to her displeasure, her previous entertainment scurries out of the room at the sight of his captain.

"China."

She scowls at her pet-name, glaring fiercely at the officer across her. He pretends not to notice the sinister aura emitted by the girl and takes a good look at the room they're situated in. There is practically nothing in here except for two lamps positioned on the walls, an ancient wooden table with even older-looking chairs on each side and a window covered in what he hopes is moss. Yikes.

That lazy Hijikata, always getting out of cleaning the rooms. He'll be sure to stab his doll with more needles later.

Right now Okita has more pressing matters to attend to.

"Why were you at the park." He asks, or rather states, in his usual bored tone. Propping his chin in the palm of his hand, the captain rests his elbow against the table and makes a laughable attempt at feigning interest.

Kagura snorts, "What makes you think I'll answer a tax robber like you?"

For a lady with an extremely attractive appearance her mouth sure is a turnoff. Sailors would blush at the expletives this woman has been using in the hour that she's been here. But Sougo has to admit he quite likes her feisty temper. It'll make things more interesting for sure.

"Oh pleeeease don't." He gets up from his chair and walks around until he's standing directly behind her seat. "That'll give me a reason to..." His hands shoot out onto the table on each side of her body, "…punish you."

She shudders involuntarily; her mind suddenly conjuring up images of the police officer doing unspeakable things to her. But before he could see the impact of his words on her, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, "You're such a… sadist!"

However, Kagura has no idea that she's just dug herself a deeper hole. Okita grins maniacally and bends down, positioning his lips directly beside her ear, "You have no idea."

* * *

><p>The sadist's methods of interrogation almost make Kagura want to tell him everything just so that he could leave her be and not suffocate her with sexual tension. As much as the redhead hates to admit it, the lazy slur in his voice coupled with his hot breath heating up her exposed neck allures her, sending familiar tingles down her spine. She's had these reactions to a very limited number of males, but she's always managed to escape before the situation went out-of-hand.<p>

And if telling this bishounen anything he wants to know will free her from this situation Kagura will not hesitate to spill the beans.

Except she is. Hesitating, that is.

It's not that she has sworn loyalty to the Yato gang. She didn't choose to be born into a family of thugs. But - being an involuntary member of this group - she knows more than anyone that confessing her true purpose of being here would almost certainly lead to her own demise.

Now Kagura is definitely by no means a weak girl. Heck she's the daughter of Umibouzu: the most fearsome balding fighter Japan has ever had the pleasure of housing. While the average child bonds with their parents through baseball, her family connected through their near-death experiences in combat (often with each other as well).

Yet just because she was raised this way, doesn't mean she approves of her clansmen's doings.

She was simply taking her overgrown mutation of a dog Sadaharu out for a walk in the park when she was arrested by some pathetic excuse for an officer. And on what grounds? Apparently she was vandalizing public property, when all the poor girl was doing was training her dog (albeit violently). Of course, the tax robbers would have none of it.

Hence a fight broke out.

But, if she was really honest, it wasn't so much of a fight as it was a total ownage of a group of full-grown men by a girl half their age.

It was appalling, really.

How on earth were the Shinsengumi supposed to pose as any form of a threat to the Yato at the rate that they were going at?

Kagura knew that with no worthy opponent to satisfy the bloodlust of her gang they would eventually terrorize Kabuki district and perhaps even the rest of Japan. Once that was done, they'd probably turn on each other.

She definitely can't have that.

So one could say she voluntarily let herself be taken into custody so that she could personally educate these pitiful fools on how to stop her clansmen from rampaging throughout the entire city and disrupting the lives of unsuspecting civilians. Kagura never agreed with the values shared by the rest of the gang; she wouldn't even have willingly joined the Yato gang if she wasn't her father's daughter.

But she was. She is.

And now she must rectify the errors done to these people by her own gang members. After all - like the tsundere she is - underneath her tough girl act lays a compassionate woman.

Though she certainly wouldn't let herself be taken in by a bunch of weaklings; she still had her untarnished Yato pride. So until someone worthy enough appeared at the scene, she'd decided to keep herself entertained by smashing these puny officers into the ground.

Hence when the captain of the first division made his appearance, Kagura knew from his aura alone that his strength surpassed the previous officers' physical abilities put together.

That would be the first and the last time she would ever surrender herself to Okita Sougo.

* * *

><p>"Hey foreigner!"<p>

Said girl blinks, breaking out of her reverie and immediately finds herself lost in a sea of bloody red. After a brief moment she realizes that she's been staring into the eyes of her supposed interrogator for God knows how long. How long did she space out for? Just when did he get so close to her that she could feel the tingle of his warm breath on her lips?

When their intense eye-contact becomes too uncomfortable for the girl, she alters her gaze around the room to find that during the course of her daydreaming, the sadist had somehow managed to spin her chair around to face him and reduce the distance between them.

A smirk works its way onto his lips, "Were you dreaming about all the S and M roles we could play?" he leaned closer towards her until their noses were brushing, openly taking pleasure in the way her cheeks flame as brightly has her hair. "You didn't strike me as an M."

"That's because I'm not." And with that she smashes her forehead into his, sending him flying into the opposite wall.

Shifting himself into a sitting position from the crater of concrete his body made, Okita wipes the blood dripping down his forehead and smirks at the girl in the chair.

Did he mention that he likes them feisty?


	3. Chapter 3

Hijikata was not having a great day.

First off, he was woken up in the middle of the night again by the unsettling murmurs of 'Die Hijikata' right outside his bedroom. He'll never get used to Sougo's ill-timed "jogging" rituals and somewhere not-too-deep inside him he knows that Sougo isn't hoping he would any time soon.

After a horrible sleep plagued with dreams of being surrounded by mayonnaise, which eventually became nightmares once he realised that he was actually being drowned in the golden goodness (of course, Sougo was there pushing him under more layers of mayonnaise whenever he managed to reach the surface for air) Hijikata waked up to the sound of a bazooka being randomly fired off.

His body jerked awake as he reached for his katana and scanned the room for a lurking mop of flaxen hair. He only allowed himself to relax, albeit barely, a few seconds after registering that his self-proclaimed murderer was not present.

He made the mistake of letting his guard down way too soon however, because when he took a swig from the mayonnaise bottle he places by his pillow every night, he ended up spending an extra hour in the bathroom.

That piece of shit must've put laxatives in his mayonnaise again.

After his ass finally managed to part from the toilet bowl for longer than fifteen minutes, his crappy morning took a turn for the worse when informed of an emergency situation at Saikai park. So as he drove over to the place in his police car, the vice commander questioned how it was that Sougo had not already taken care of whatever issue was evident at his favoured slacking spot.

Even though the troublemakers were of the Yato, they barely posed as a threat for Shinsengumi's strongest.

But then when Hijikata arrived an hour after he left the station (don't blame him! Blame the crazy traffic...and the buy 1 get 1 free Mayonnaise sale) he couldn't help but release another frustrated groan. So _this_ was why Sougo hadn't dealt with the issue immediately.

The little brat had hormones after all.

Why of all times did they have to show up now?

After breaking up their hanky-panky session - and receiving a few death threats in the process - he drove the hormonal, overly-strong teenagers to the station, eager to pass these two to someone else or have them commit seppuku.

Unfortunately, neither of these things happened.

Which brings us to his current predicament. Instead of watching his 4 o'clock program, Hijikata is stuck babysitting this redheaded monster in a room that smells somewhat like expired milk. The only thing distracting him from the stench in the interrogation room is the silvery feminine voice overriding his sense of hearing.

"Did you know that addictions to smoking and mayonnaise are signs of constipation?"

Screw it.

"Oii Yamazaki! Cover for me while I get Sougo!"

* * *

><p>The eavesdropping officers on the other side of the thin wall are met with silence the moment the captain of the first division enters the interrogation room. In a desperate attempt to quell their curiosity, they press their ears harder upon the wall but manage to gather nothing more than a few murmurs.<p>

You can't really blame them for being so nosy; it isn't everyday that they'd land a Yato (a female one at that) in their station, especially one that made little to no fuss once she was captured.

Just what are those gangsters planning?

("You are such a...sadist!")

Their ears peak at the mention of the word. There's no doubt now that their Okita-san isn't showing any mercy towards their prisoner, despite her being a woman. The officers look at each other and barely conceal their gleeful giggles at the perverted ideas of what was going on in the room.

Unfortunately all good things come to an end.

"Yamazaki, what are you and the others doing here? Found a better hobby than badminton?"

The Vice Commander's husky monotone make its way to their ears; their shoulders stiffen in unconcealed fear at the sound. Slowly, the officers turn around from their positions on the wall to look at their unamused superior, awaiting the reprimanding they would soon receive with dread.

Hijikata stands in front of the row of guilty officers, with his hands in his pockets and a dubious look on his face.

Yamazaki, who lead the group of eavesdroppers from the moment he left the interrogation room (what could he say? He desperately wants to be around to witness his taichou punish the prisoner, especially after all the verbal abuse she gave him.) quickly composes himself and attempts to casually gesture to the vacant spot beside him by the wall in some form of an invitation.

"Hijikata-san, we were just ensuring that Okita-taichou had everything under control." All the officers secretly cross their fingers behind their back with the hopes that their fukuchou would buy their lie.

Apparently luck isn't on their side today.

"Don't waste your time..."

Hijikata narrows his eyebrows with a skeptical expression marring his features. He walks towards the spy, taking agonizingly slow steps as he pulls his hands out of his pockets, watching the fear grow in his subordinates' guarded expressions.

The anpan-lover gulps. He's in for it, there's no mistaking it this time. All those times he was threatened with having to commit seppuku, and now their vice will do it for him. As the Vice Commander approaches him with a less-than-friendly look on his face, Yamazaki takes the time to reflect on all the things he wishes he'd done while he was alive (seeing as there's no way he can survive this) and still able to.

_'I wish I opened up that anpan bakery I was always dreaming about...'_

Hijikata is less than a meter away.

_'...or maybe joined the national badminton tournament...'_

Yamazaki steps forward with his head bowed down in shame, the other officers follow suit. Of course their vice is smart enough to see through his lie. The sad truth is, they all could sense the sexual tension rolling off of their younger taichou and this delinquent from the moment those two set foot in the station together and - being the nasty little perverts they are - just wanted to see (or in this case hear) some juicy action.

They're men for goodness sake!

Out of the corner of his eye, Yamazaki sees his superior raise his hand before he squeezes his eyes shut.

_'...maybe I should have told Tama-'_

"Those kids don't know the meaning of control."

His eyes shoot open and he turns around to find their fukuchou cupping his ear to the wall in a vain attempt to listen in himself.

_'...NANI?!'_

Was that a tinge of red on Hijikata-san's cheeks?

But before he has time to observe further, that particular section of the wall Hijikata was leaning on suddenly crumbles and collapses on the man, leaving a gaping hole in the wall and an unconscious vice commander.

"FUKUCHOUUUUU!"


	4. Chapter 4

Kagura doesn't know what game they're playing but she'll have none of it.

With ease she breaks out of her handcuffs - they were barely restraining her in the first place - and walks towards the demolished wall, massaging her wrists. Tilting her head to the side she watches with mild curiosity as the flaxen-haired man gets back onto his feet, using what remains of the wall as support. He reminds her of the cockroach she found in her room the other day: always coming back to piss her off whenever she thinks she's destroyed it for good.

Cerulean orbs narrows in disdain. "You shouldn't treat your guest so poorly."

"Guest?" Sougo chuckle comes out as pitiful gasps for air, largely due to being winded from the Yato's surprise attack. "You must have hit your head too hard. You're delusional."

Before he can blink she appears right in front of him. Raising a pale hand slowly, she brushes her thumb across his forehead all-too-gently for a gangster of her calibre. Her focus wholly absorbed by the substance coating her thumb, Kagura fails to notice the flicker of confusion in the officer's eyes.

Sougo doesn't understand where the sudden tenderness comes from but holds his pokerface regardless. He watches the woman stare at her hand, a frown adorning her features.

Just as quickly as it appears her expression is masked with a smug grin. Lifting her bloody thumb into his view, she places her lips beside his ear and whispers "I'm not the one bleeding though, am I?"

"Keep it in your pants you brats." Two pairs of eyes drift to the smoker strewn among the broken chunks of the wall on the other side. "Now isn't the time for flirting."

Wordlessly they both proceed to repeatedly step on the Vice Captain - one grinding his face into the ground while the other rams his foot into his abdomen.

"Was this planned or something?!"

* * *

><p>Somehow the policemen manage to convince Sougo and Kagura to continue their interrogation. While the latter initially refuses, after rendering several officers unconscious they come to a mutual agreement: she'll play along with their "question and answer" game so long as they release her afterwards. Seeing all the havoc she caused in the two hours she's spent at their headquarters, the Shinsengumi happily oblige.<p>

Thus she finds herself in another bland room, this time with the Shinsengumi's vice captain _and_ their first division captain across the table. It is safe to say that none of them look thrilled to be here.

"So Miss Kagura…?"

"Just Kagura." Rolling her eyes at the older man's raised eyebrows, she elaborates. "We don't have surnames." The end of her lip curls into a smirk. "Don't need 'em."

"Who does this little shit think she is?!" An angry tick appears on Hijikata's head as he bolts out of his seat and attempts to reach over the table to attack the redhead.

Sougo holds his superior in place by his shirt collar, only because it is more amusing to see the man struggle to assault their captive than to watch her pulverise him. "Maa-maa, calm down Hijikata-san. She'll kick your ass if you try to fight her."

Kagura watches them argue amongst themselves for a few minutes before deciding the conversation is heading nowhere. She has more important things to do than waste her time with squabbling boys. Their argument is halted by the piercing screech of chair-legs scraping against the floor.

"Where do you think you're going China-girl?"

"I was just leaving. Thought I should give you two some privacy to make-out."

Before Hijikata can retort Sougo is out of his chair. With his hands on her shoulders he guides her back to her seat, "There's no need to be jealous China" he coos mockingly as his thumbs rub circles into the muscles at the bottom of her neck. "If you wanted to have fun with me all you needed to do was ask…although I would have said no anyway."

He leaves her flushing in anger to return to his seat.

Sensing the tension in the air the vice commander clears his throat awkwardly. "Why were you at the park?"

"I was walking my dog Sadaharu."

He eyes her, skeptical. "And how is it that you came to damage public property on your _walk_?"

"We trained for a bit." She shrugs. "It was collateral damage."

Sougo's eye twitches upon remembering that his beloved bench was part of the 'collateral damage'. This time Hijikata is the one holding the sadist back from lunging at the woman. A part of him is tempted to release his hold on his subordinate's uniform but - as badly as he wants to see her be punished - they cannot afford to destroy any more of their buildings.

"-wrong questions."

"What?"

Kagura groans, impatience evident in her tone. "You idiots are asking the wrong questions."

Once certain that his colleague will not lunge for her again Hijikata shifts his attention back to the gangster. "What questions should we be asking?"

Throwing her hands into the air, her glare screams bloody murder. "Isn't it _your _job to figure out?"

When she is met with silence she slams her hands on the table, the sound reverberating around the room. "Don't you find it strangethat the daughter of the most powerful fighter in Edo was captured so easily?"

Hijikata snorts, "Captured easily you say? Do you know how many of our men are in the emergency ward because of you?"

A resigned sigh leaves her lips. She looks at them, a tight smile on her face. "It appears we have nothing more to discuss."

At their silent agreement she rises from her seat. "When you have the right questions to ask," she looks at Sougo, "find me."

Saying nothing more she leaves the room; both officers following closely behind.

* * *

><p>"Don't come back anytime soon."<p>

Scoffing at the mayonnaise lover's words, Kagura doesn't spare any of the policemen a second glance as she waltzes out of the headquarters. They're all idiots, every one of them. Feeling the hunch in her shoulders, she straightens her back. _'Chin up, eyes forward' _ is what her mother used to say.

She stops walking.

"If you do your job right I won't have to."

As the officers ponder her odd choice of parting words, Sougo watches the woman's back get further and further away until she disappears from his view completely. The brightness of her figure - from those vibrant vermillion locks to her luminous white dress - bears such a striking contrast to Edo's twilight that when the nighttime swallows her figure whole an unsettling feeling pools in the pit of his stomach.

He doesn't realise he's frowning until Hijikata speaks.

"You noticed it too, didn't you?" Sougo doesn't answer but turns to look at his superior, prompting him to continue. The older man stares off into the direction the woman was headed towards. His gaze is unfocused but his comrade knows his mind is sharp, noticing something eyes cannot see.

"There's something _off _about that Yato girl."

* * *

><p><strong>I've edited the previous chapters a bit so do reread them. If you don't it probably doesn't impact your understanding of this chapter too much though so no pressure.<strong>

**Sorry for the delay guys. Finding inspiration for this one is challenging.**

**Hope it's up to your expectations!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Tadaima," Kagura mumbles.

As expected, no response follows.

Returning to an empty house is not a rare phenomenon for the redhead. Although she still lives with her father and older brother, they have always gone about their own business, leaving her to seek solace in solitude.

Umibouzo's hobby of travelling around the world has made him a stranger to his own home. His stays with them are few and far between, almost as though he feels more comfortable anywhere but at the one place his family resides. On the other hand while Kamui still lives with her, days often pass without a glimpse of braided pink hair around the house. He leaves hours before the sun rises and returns late into the night; the only telling signs of his presence are the washed dishes by the sink and the empty fridge.

The distance between them has grown so far that they have become three individual persons living under the same roof, rather than a family.

Family.

The word leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

In spite of her estranged relationships, Kagura finds herself undeterred from her personal mission. The Yato gang has always been strong, not simply because of their connections and natural physical enhancements, but because everyone in the gang is related. Nothing unifies a group like a blood bond. They were just a group once, just an extended family.

When did things start to go wrong?

If anything she wants to save them - the public and her clansmen - even more now than before, bring things back to the way they used to be. Consumed by their insatiable greed and thirst for power her clansmen have transformed into cold-hearted criminals, brother and father included.

She switches on the lights to reveal a lifeless living room, thinking to herself that once upon a time things were different. Once upon a time her baka-nii wasn't obsessed with gaining strength and didn't find enjoyment in criminal activities poorly disguised as "clansmen traditions".

However that was all once upon a time.

Deep down she knows life doesn't have a reset button but if she won't try to save them, _who will?_Perhaps if the policemen can stop them from falling even deeper into their moral recession they might see the light once again. Maybe then the three of them can pick up the broken pieces and try to make things work again.

Ruffling her canine companion's mane she leaves Sadaharu to head for the bathroom, singing Otsuu-chan's newest chart-topper under her breath as she saunters down the hallway.

"Omae soredemo ningen ka!"

Stripping down the redhead discards her dirty clothes on the marble floor and places her revolver on the sink. She inspects her naked form in the mirror as she attempts to dance.

"Omae no kaachan XX shita!"

Stepping into the shower, Kagura groans at the soothing sensation of hot water on her skin. There's nothing like a good shower to follow an exhausting day spent with less than average-brained policemen. Those uniformed idiots are filth personified and after prolonged contact with them her body is in dire need of cleansing.

Especially that sadist cop.

Never has she seen a police officer behave so recklessly; his actions towards her were a clear abuse of authority, bordering on sexual harassment. Kagura recalls the warm tingling of the flaxen-haired man's breath dancing along her skin, the pressure of his thumbs on her shoulders, his body intimately pressed against hers as he handcuffs—

She promptly increases the water temperature, hoping the scalding water will purge her mind of these dirty thoughts.

* * *

><p>Like any other night Yoshiwarais bustling with life. The streets are littered with bars, brothels, cabarets, adult shops and anything that encourages debauchery. Customers and prostitutes alike flood the district, unbothered by the noise and unconcerned by the law. The Yato gang have always held influence over the Japanese government, be it due to their connections with neighbouring cities and China, or the threat their well-known physical power poses to Tokyo should they decide to act against the city.<p>

It required little persuasion on the King of the Night's part to get the previous Shogun to allow the district's activities and while Yoshiwara's frequenters may not necessarily agree with its ruler's methods, they aren't complaining about its results.

As a mass of people drunkenly stumble from pub to pub two men sit in the corner of a dimly-lit, uncrowded bar.

"It appears your sister has gotten herself in trouble with the law."

"Does that surprise you?" If possible, the grin on the younger man's face widens. "It runs in the family, it's bound to happen sometime."

When he doesn't comment further Abuto sighs, reminding himself that the lad before him doesn't value familial bonds the way he does. Given his superior's lack of interest in the topic, continuing the conversation down this path wouldn't prove fruitful but he has always had a soft spot for the girl — likely because she bears an uncanny resemblance to her brother — and he never feels right when forced to turn a blind eye to the struggles of his fellow clansmen.

"Oi oi big brother shouldn't you at least pretend to be concerned?" Sipping his sake he continues, "Little Kagura could get hurt."

Kamui's eyes remain shut. "I don't have time for weaklings, you know that. Besides," Eyelids open ever-so-slightly, revealing a hint of blue. "If the crybaby dies that's one less disgrace to take care of."

A resigned sigh leaves Abuto's lips again. "You know, even criminals have soft spots for their family."

Kamui gives a nonchalant shrug.

* * *

><p>"Ne Hijikata-san," Sougo addresses the man beside him, "stop slacking around and get to work."<p>

"I'm not the one sleeping on the job." Hijikata retorts, laying his head back against the bench. "It's not my fault people haven't been committing any crimes lately."

"You're wrong."

He turns to face his subordinate, surprised by the sudden change in the man's tone. Sougo's sombre demeanour brews uncertainty in him: his comrade doesn't take many things seriously, but when he does Hijikata knows shit is about to go down.

Taking off his eye-mask, a grim look mars his comrade's features. Racking his brain for any potential threats to the city he might have ignored, Hijikata kicks himself when he remembers the Yato girl from three weeks ago and the bleak future foreshadowed by her words.

How could he forget her warning?

'_Oh yeah…Tomoe-chan was on television…'_

"Yeah…" Sougo's voice breaks his trail of thought, "there's one crime that I haven't tended to lately…"

Red meets blue in an unwavering stare.

Hijikata holds his breath, anticipating the worst.

"And that's you, Hijikata-san."

"NANI?!" is all he manages to say before instinctually ducking, narrowly avoiding being blown to smithereens by Sougo's bazooka. The canon sails over his head and through the ground floor of a convenience store.

"Tsk. See what you did Hijikata-san?"

"You're the only criminal around here!"

After their pointless argument the officers settle down on the bench once more, blatantly ignoring the raging shopkeeper fifty metres to their right. Watching the civilians at leisure Hijikata cannot hide his smirk of content; a cop knows he's doing a good job when citizens can walk around town without a fear in the world.

He may be the vice-commander in title, but he's a policeman at heart.

Protecting the people is his duty and — based on the lack of criminal activity in the last month — the smoker knows his efforts are finally going somewhere. Yet as he observes adults and teenagers frolicking about, he cannot help but think that the streets of Tokyo are _too quiet_.

"Sougo, when was the last time a Yato clansmen committed a crime?"

"Two days ago."

"What was it?"

"He shoplifted from a department store. Why?"

Ignoring the question Hijikata presses on. "What about the one before that?"

"That was almost a week ago, the guy was a purse-snatcher." Sougo watches him closely from the corner of his eye. "Why?"

"When was the last time the Yato gang did something _big_? Like a murder or a bank robbery."

"I don't know…around a month ago?" The younger man sits up, turning to fully face his superior. "You gonna tell me what this is about or do I have to beat it out of you?"

Hijikata stares off into the distance, dark blue eyes unfocused.

The bigger crimes were always committed by the more powerful members of the Yato gang, not because they were more capable of carrying out those activities but because they could handle more of the police force than their subordinates. The last time they heard from the bigger fish was roughly a month ago. Are they laying low? Or are they preparing for something bigger?

'_Don't you find it strange that the daughter of the most powerful fighter in Tokyo was captured so easily?'_

As he surveys the vicinity, the lack of activity on the streets grows increasingly eerie with every passing minute. Yet the passers-by remain blissfully ignorant, lulled into the false sense of security the dropping crime rate brings.

This quietude isn't one of peace.

No.

It is the calm before the storm.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the boring chapter. Hopefully the next ones will be longer and more eventful.<strong>

**Have a great week everyone and thanks for reviewing. **


	6. Chapter 6

**If you haven't noticed, I changed my penname from yourstruly247 to thirteenchrysanthemums. **

**Turns out I wasn't the only yourstruly247 around and I've recently been confused with the other yourstruly247s. The only yourstruly247 accounts that are mine are the deviantart and THIS fanfiction one (NOT the sexstories account!). The yourstruly247 twitter, blogspot, ebay, myspace, socialblade, youtube, etc. accounts are not mine.**

**So to avoid being confused with other people in the future I changed my penname.**

* * *

><p>So…much…pink.<p>

That is the first thing that comes to mind as Kagura watches the woman sitting on the table in front of her, eyes drowning in the sheer pinkness of the other lady's yukata. The woman practically radiates elegance. Brown hair in a loose ponytail with stray chestnut locks framing her face, the Yato-girl cannot help but stare in awe. This stranger is so unashamedly _feminine_ in her appearance that Kagura feels the need to glance at the window beside her, just to compare her own dressing.

Succumbing to her temptation, she looks into the glass reflection and throws a wry smile at the lady staring back at her. She may be attractive to some, but she pales in comparison to this stranger. Her elongated red cheongsam — while popular in China — is as fashionable in Tokyo as wearing a bikini in winter. However the flexibility provided to her legs by the dress's high slits make it acceptable for combat, plus she's worn it for so long that despite how out of place it seems, she cannot imagine herself in anything else.

"Ohayo Kagura-chan! Will you be eating the usual?"

"Hai Ojii-san."

Her gaze wanders to her hairstyle next: one of the few things retained from her childhood. When young, she wanted desperately to copy that girl from Naruto but she had such difficulty tying her hair into two buns that she ended up rummaging through her father's bathroom for those blue ornaments to clip her hair in place. Umibouzo never told her what he used them for but once he saw them on her head he never asked for them back. She wouldn't have returned them even if he did. After all, it is these hair clips that distinguish her from other basic bun-wearing females. They are the only accessories she wears, the only items unrelated to her violent lifestyle.

Kagura envies this brunette civilian: she can dress up as much as she wants without having to concern herself over whether she could fight in it or not. She can take time to look beautiful and parade around displaying her beauty without worry of attracting too much attention or being the target of the Yakuza.

Bells chime as the doors to the restaurant open.

"Shin-chan!" The woman calls out, a smile adorning her face. She waves. "Over here!"

The redhead blanches at the plain-looking boy — _Shin-chan _was it? — heading towards the brunette's table with a man donning a suspicious perm-job in tow. As they chatted amiably amongst themselves, Kagura ponders their relationship.

What onlooker _wouldn't_?

"Here you go Kagura-chan." The sound of the tray being set on her table momentarily breaks her focus. "5 plates of egg on rice."

"Thanks ojii-san. I'll ask for my second round later."

She reverts her attention back to the trio, inhaling her meal the same way one rabidly eats popcorn when watching an R-rated movie's steamiest scene.

Who could blame her?

Calling this situation bizarre would be an understatement. Today's society is so superficial — with pretty women coupled with handsome strangers while the ugly ones scrape the bottom of the barrel — that the trio before her look foreign to say the least. There's no way a cherry-boy like this _Shin-chan _could know this fine specimen of a woman intimately, yet here this goddess is calling out to him so affectionately.

"Aneue, Gin-san and I have a favour to ask."

Kagura chokes on her rice.

'_Sister?! Just how varied was their family's gene pool?! They look nothing alike! That's like saying Goku is actually Piccolo's long lost brother! One of them must be adopted.'_

"What is it Shin-chan?"

The two men — their backs toward the redhead — discuss something about a client looking for a calendar model. Realising that she's been staring for too long Kagura averts her gaze to the plates of rice that she never stopped eating, eavesdropping while she stuffs her mouth with food.

"I'll see if I can do it." She hears the lady reply. "My work schedule is getting busier though."

"We want you to ask one of your workmates." The white-haired guy shamelessly corrects her, not bothering to lower his voice. He picks at his teeth shamelessly. "Nobody wants to look at you, Robert de flato."

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

A high-pitched scream reaches her ears. She looks up just in time to see the brunette deliver a swift uppercut to the man, her smile never wavering. The woman's expression is so similar to Kamui's that for a second Kagura considers the possibility of her brother in a yukata and a brown wig.

The man flies out of his seat from the impact of the punch, and it is then that the redhead notices the sword strapped to his waist.

'_That's odd. Aren't swords out of practice? Is he…a samurai?'_

Her heart goes out to the stranger as she finds another reason to loathe her clansmen, despite her desire to save them. It was the Yato clan who introduced firearms in Japan at the cost of the country's sword-wielding tradition. Swords quickly grew out of fashion in the wake of these inventions. However, while they promoted guns amongst the Japanese, the gangsters always made sure their own weapons were better, with newer modifications and developments that the public haven't heard of, even today. The burdensome weight of her own custom-made revolver in her thigh holster is a painful reminder of her gang's greed.

Deep in thought, Kagura almost fails to catch sight of a strange glint outside from the corner of her eye.

Almost.

Instead of dismissing it as her mind commands, she turns to the window, devoting her undivided attention to the mystery object. Hairs stand on end. Unease gnaws away at her insides. Cerulean orbs scan the outside of the restaurant methodically; the redhead doesn't know what exactly she is searching for but intuition — honed by years of exposure to violence and life-threatening situations — screams at her to _do something_.

Continuing to survey her surroundings, the sun blesses her with another ray of light aimed at the unknown object, it's reflection drawing her focus once more. This time her eyes are quick to locate the suspicious gleam, scaling up one of Tokyo's many high-rise buildings to find a particular window open.

She stiffens.

The sheen of light is not merely a distant window refracting the sun's rays; it's the barrel of a sniper rifle.

And it's aimed at her.

She doesn't think, doesn't breathe. Any normal human being's first instinct would be to panic, but she isn't any normal human being. The face of death is one she is all too familiar with, and based on the fact that she is still alive at this very moment is enough confirmation that the person on the other end of that rifle has yet to pull the trigger.

Any movement on her end however, could change that.

'_It's all about…'_

Staring at the open window, Kagura is fully aware that they — herself and her killer — are at a standstill. The sniper — frozen in shock at being discovered — awaits the redhead's reaction with baited breath, while the target appears to be caught like a deer in headlights. The instant she moves that trigger will be pulled.

'…_timing.'_

With a rush of adrenaline flowing through her veins she lifts her right hand. Taking a leap of faith she wastes no time in closing her thumb and index finger, catching the bullet inches away from her heart. Her fingers burn from its scorching heat but her will to stay alive burns stronger, forcing her blistering fingers to remain tightly closed around the metal ball and absorb the remainder of its kinetic energy.

A gunshot sounds.

The window beside her shatters.

Some customers scream, some crouch towards the ground with their hands over their heads, others turn to view the commotion is about.

On the other hand Kagura remains impassive, her glare remaining on the high-rise building, silently challenging the sniper to a second try. It is only when she sees the gunman tear their rifle from the open window — dismantling it at lightning quick speed — does she allow herself to breathe, knowing fully well that by the time she makes it to that room the sniper would be gone without a trace.

She brings her fingers eye-level, brows narrowing as she scrutinises the object. Dread overcomes her senses once more as she realises the implications of this discovery. The metal ball sitting in her hand is not a typical round nose bullet one can find at any ammunitions store, this is a hollow point bullet — one that causes larger wounds than your regular bullet and is seen as overly lethal and banned from warfare in most countries.

More importantly, this is a bullet only members of the Yato clan have access to.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later a swarm of black and white vehicles roll up to the scene of the crime. Sirens wailing, honks blaring, the Shinsengumi dramatically throw their car doors open, rushing into the restaurant as though the person responsible for this mess would still be there.<p>

"Ahh. We were too late."

Hijikata approaches the person he assumes is the restaurant owner: an elderly man sitting at a table with his head in his hands, utterly oblivious to the Shinsengumi's arrival.

"Takuma-san. What happened here?"

The old man raises his head to face the vice commander, wild eyes and trembling fingers clear signs that he has yet to recover from the trauma of what he had witnessed.

Hijikata sighs, pulling up a chair beside the man. "Oi! Get us some water over here."

With his chin resting atop his hand he prompts the owner to continue.

"Take your time."

"One minute," Takuma clears his throat, "one minute I was taking orders, a-and next thing I know I hear something like a gun being fired and a crash and turn around to find my window broken and—"

"Slow down." Hijikata stops the civilian from working himself into hysterics, handing him a glass of water. He gulps the liquid down offering a quiet "thanks".

"You heard a gunshot?"

He pauses. "Yes. I'm quite sure it was a gunshot."

Hijiikata's expression becomes pensive: dark blue orbs become distant as a frown works its way onto his face.

"Is something wrong, officer-san?"

Regarding him with watchful eyes the smoker speaks, "If someone fired a gun at your restaurant, where is the bullet?"

Takuma pales, realisation hitting him like a ton of bricks. "There was someone, sitting by the window when it happened." He stammers uncontrollably, "A g-girl! Kagura-chan!"

Hijikata freezes. The name rings a bell. "Describe her."

His witness hesitates before mumbling, "Red hair…blue eyes… light skin…chinese dress…"

The rest of the man's words fade away as he recalls the appearance of the obnoxious woman they interrogated weeks ago. Recognition dawns on the policeman's features.

At the abrupt change in Hijikata's expression the old man worries for his favourite customer. "Did you see her on your way here? You think she was shot?" Concern for his business melts away at the mere thought of the girl in trouble.

Takuma's apparent attachment to the redhead puzzles the Vice Commander yet he remains silent.

"She seemed fine after it happened…" he babbled on, "…walked out of here normally…maybe she was pretendi—"

"I saw what happened." A foreign voice interjects.

They turn to its source, a young blonde girl — one of the newer waitresses — fidgeting nervously under their heavy scrutiny.

When she doesn't elaborate any further Hijikata feels his patience wearing thin.

"Well?!"

Shaking her head, her gaze never wanders from her hands, focusing on how they tremble ever-so-slightly. "You'll think I'm crazy."

Both men share a look before the older one speaks, his tone imploring. "Megumi-chan, please tell us. It's a matter of life and death!"

Twiddling her thumbs she whispers. "She caught it."

"Caught what?"

The waitress takes a deep breath, staring Hijikata straight in the eye.

"She caught the bullet."

* * *

><p>Dusk approaches, merging orange and pink with the vast expanse of blue until the colours are blended so intimately in the sky that you cannot discern where one starts and the other ends. The streets of Kabuki-cho grow quieter with every passing minute as people return home for dinner and a quick rest, preparing themselves to experience Tokyo's nightlife in a few hours.<p>

One man, however, has other plans in mind.

"Take care, Ikumatsu-dono."

Behind his white coverings he watches — like a starved predator observing its unsuspecting prey — as a man leaves the ramen shop, his silky hair and pale blue haori swaying gently with the evening breeze. Making no move to hide the bandaged man follows his target against the crowd's current, swiftly sidestepping his way through the thinning throngs of people.

After minutes of seemingly directionless amble, the two figures end up in a deserted street with nothing but trees and abandoned buildings for witnesses. An amused smile breaks out on his covered face when he realises why the man has stopped here of all places. His prey knows exactly what his intentions are and is trying to minimise the collateral damage.

He chuckles. Noble men are hard to find and even harder to fight.

"So you must be the great Katsura Kotarou."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm no physicist but based on action movies and on the fact that the speed of a fired bullet surpasses that of sound, you should hear the bullet being fired after it goes through the window. <strong>**If I've got this wrong please abandon the laws of physics for this fic okay?**

**On another note: you guys must be pretty confused with what is happening with and this chapter probably made you even more confused. THAT IS OK. I repeat. THAT IS OK. I purposely made Kagura's intentions cryptic (I'm such an asshole right?). I promise I'll explain everything in one of the later chapters.**

**Stay golden!**

**(AND HAPPY NEW YEAR BABES)**


	7. Chapter 7

As a retired bounty hunter Sakata Gintoki has a knack for attracting danger. While a few years ago this skill was essential for his profession, he's not about that life anymore. There are better, _easier_ ways to put food on your plate: ways that don't involve risking your testicles at every turn.

_Yorozuya Gin-chan _was supposed to be his ticket out of that violent lifestyle. Heck, you could say that the wooden sword strapped to his waist is more of a prop to complete his yukata than a weapon (although he cannot deny that it is uncharacteristically impenetrable).

Life as an odd-jobs worker — while lacking in adrenaline rushes — has never been uneventful. It may not be the most luxurious manner of living, what with being underpaid by clients and a stingy landlady shoved up your ass like a prickly pole, but deep down (very _very _deep down) Gintoki doubts he would swap his life for anyone's. There's not much to complain about.

Except for the overdue rent-part.

_And _his natural perm.

Anyway, there's a charm in idly watching time go by with your nose buried in the latest JUMP issue. All adults enjoy doing nothing, so when doing nothing occupies a large part of your working hours you know you're heading in the right direction.

But one can only lounge around aimlessly for so long.

Luckily for Yorozuya Gin-chan their moments of idleness are often short, although frequent. Just when the boredom kicks in and you start craving for an adventure, it comes right to your—

"Gin-san, I hate to interrupt your monologue but there's someone at the door."

He sighs, pretending to be immersed in this week's JUMP.

"Gin-san," his bespectacled subordinate stands behind him, donning a frilly apron with a broomstick in hand.

"I know you can hear me." Shinpachi chastises, hand on his cocked hip. "One of these days I'm going to disappear and then you'll wish you paid more attention to me!"

Overwhelmed by the the nagging tone and self-righteous posture of his effeminately-dressed employee, it is on absolute reflex that Gintoki yells out "Okaa-san?!"

"WHO'S YOUR OKAASAN?!"

At some point during their heated bickering they remember the cause of the quarrel: a visitor. Eager to avoid being nagged by the cherry-boy Gintoki hastily clambers to the front door.

"Sorry! We didn't mean to keep you waiting." Laughing nervously he slides the door open. Of all the types of customers he expected on the other side, the last sight he expected to be greeted with is a familiar mop of vermillion.

"Hey! Weren't you in the—"

He slides the door shut.

"Gin-san who was it?" Shinpachi peaks his head round the corner, eyes shining with curiosity.

"Be quiet Shinpachi!" Gintoki whispers, placing a finger to his lips as he ignores the pounding on the door. "It's the terminator…probably sent by that old hag to get rid of us for real."

"Isn't Tama-san on a break?" The younger man asks, deadpan expression a clear indication of his disbelief.

Nonetheless Gintoki keeps up his charade, staring pleadingly at his coworker. "It isn't Tama at the door. It's Tama 2.0: the updated version."

Like a mother thoroughly fed up with her child's antics, Shinpachi sighs. Trust his boss to come up with the most creative stories to get out of work. Assuming that Gintoki is being unreasonable again, he elbows his way past him ("Wait! Don't open it!").

He throws the door open…

"Well it's about ti—"

…and then promptly slams it.

"You're right Gin-san." He mutters with a wry smile. "She isn't Tama, she's much _much _worse."

Both men flinch when the knocking restarts, growing louder by the second.

"This is Yorozuya Gin-chan right?" A surprisingly chirpy voice calls, contrasting the rough and solid blows delivered to their door. "I need your services."

Remaining silent the odd-jobs men make eye-contact, mentally discussing (arguing) what kind of services a person like her could possibly need.

'_Gin-san we can't turn her away. She's a client!'_

Gintoki shake this head vehemently, white curls swaying with his movements. _'Absolutely noooot! I don't want anything to do with shady people. Once you're in the criminal world, the only way out is through death!'_

"I know you're in there!" Unconcealed anger replaces the sugary tone, her patience running thin. If possible she knocks even harder on the wooden surface, the door shaking out of its frame with every blow.

Putting their mental conversation on hold they scramble to the door and frantically attempt to hold it shut. Shinpachi looks to his employer, hope swirling in his chocolate irises.

'_Maybe we've got this all wrong. Maybe she wants us to do a normal errand?'_

'_We saw her catch a bullet with her bare hands! Is that normal to you?!'_

Releasing a shaky breath Gintoki replies, his voice an oddly high pitch. "Uhhh we're closed for the day. Why not come back tomorrow morning?"

He doesn't need to see Shinpachi's withering glare to realise how stupid he sounds. No-one in their right mind would buy that cheap excuse, not when they've just seen both members of the Yorozuya present in their headquarters. Gintoki can only pray that their mafia client is either stupid or polite enough to take the hint.

To their relief the knocking stops.

However, the ensuing pause is too long for their comfort. Air laced with tension, the Odd-job members feel as vulnerable as two lone deers in a plain field with a lion prowling around in the bushes.

Gintoki's excuses sounds pathetic even to his own ears: there's not a snowball's chance in hell that she'll believe him. The redhead is probably plotting a way to enter the place this very moment, where she will then proceed to beat them into submission like the bullet-catching terminator she is.

Just when they think they can't handle the pressure any longer, a muted sigh and fading footsteps sound on the other end. They stare at each other uncertain about what to do next. While a part of them is tempted to open the door and check if the young lady really did leave, the other part — the one that keeps them alive — screams that this is all a trap.

Eventually curiosity gets the better of them. Opening the door, they collectively heave a breath of relief to find their balcony area empty. The female terminator really did leave them alone.

Smiling victoriously at each other, they turn to go back inside when—

"Michael Jackson!"

Shinpachi freezes. That voice resembles that of their unwanted visitor's too closely for comfort. When nothing follows his shoulders relax. Chuckling to himself, he realises that he must be hearing things as a result of paranoia — similar to how one hallucinates shadowy figures by their beds immediately after watching horror movies.

"Magic Johnson!"

Pushing his glasses up with an index finger, he smirks. '_Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Isn't that right…'_

He searches for his boss, only to find a pair of long legs sticking out of a large vase beside their front door.

"…Gin-san, what are you doing?"

"Uhhhh," his voice reverberates within the confines of the vase, "looking for a time machine?"

"Like hell you were!" Shinpachi yells, pointing an accusatory finger at the vase. "You're scared shitless!"

"Hey!" Gintoki's legs wave about frantically, displaying his protest. "I may have been _surprised _but my butthole is still untainted."

"Fine. I'm going home."

With that Shinpachi leaves, ignoring his employer's desperate wails for help as he descends the wooden staircase into the busy streets of Kabukicho. The night air is crisp and a bit too cold for his liking. One cannot expect any less from Tokyo's winter, especially at this time where the sun is completely out of reach. Tightly securing his scarf around his neck Shinpachi passes by _Snack Otose _— waving a small farewell to the workers inside — only to stop walking at the sound of sniffles emerging from the alley beside it.

"Maeda Tyson!"

He stills.

Paranoia acts up again: is that girl his personal boogeyman? His mind wanders to the few horror films he's seen, attempting to recall the actions the characters took to avoid death. Realisation hits him like a bucket of cold water after a dirty dream: _nobody _survived in those movies.

Looking around he takes comfort in Kabukicho's large night crowd; nothing happens when you're in a group this big. Besides, nobody else seems to be reacting to the girly voice so he must be hallucinating.

Then again, nobody else saw her catch a bullet.

"George Jackson!"

Legs stiffening in unadulterated fear, Shinpachi seriously contemplates walking in the opposite direction to get home. However his pride refuses to let him alter his route: by changing paths he is letting his paranoia affect his life. If he changes now he'll do the same thing if she's there tomorrow, and the day after that.

It would be a disgrace for him to run away; not only as the heir to Tokyo's only Tendo-ryuu dojo, but as a grown man too.

With his newfound resolve he approaches the alley, footsteps steady in their pace even when his courage wavers. Every step increases the severity of goosebumps across his body. Hands tightening into fists, he relishes in the sharp sting of his nails as they press into his palm, opting to channel his focus into that in order to keep his mind from straying to cowardly thoughts. If he is to be assaulted or murdered by this woman, he will be with dignity like a true swordsman.

Holding his breath he rounds the corner…

"Ben Johnson!"

…only to have it sucked out of his lungs.

A few seconds ago Shinpachi thought he'd prepared himself for anything. But nothing — he realises with a heavy heart— could have prepared him for the sight of a shivering figure pathetically curled up in the embrace of an overgrown canine.

Rubbing his eyes, he inspects the person before him. Surely there's no way this girl, laying half-asleep in a dimly lit alleyway with her dog's mane for a blanket and an umbrella for shelter, is the same woman who so calmly caught bullets earlier today?

With her eyes fluttered shut and lips parted in silent snores, he sees no trace of the woman who could stare death in the face without so much as batting an eyelid. Right now she looks like a girl running away from home to start a new life with her loyal furry companion in tow. Her pet shifts in its position causing a small frown to mar her features as she unconsciously moves in response, cuddling up to it as it wraps its thick tail around her protectively.

Despite the picture of blissful innocence the redhead paints in her slumber, Shinpachi instinctively gets into a defensive stance when she inhales, her nose crinkling followed by—

"Edith Hanson!"

Before he can comment on the sneeze — who sneezes like that anyway?! — a figure from behind emerges, covering the woman in a large duvet. The action rouses her, causing a bleary blue eye to open, glaring at the man who dares to intrude on her beauty sleep.

"Now now," a familiar voice reaches Shinpachi's ears, as a mop of white hair comes into view. "A young lady should be at home at this time of night."

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes she mumbles, "Are you lazy shits open now?"

Gintoki observes the curled up redhead, cerulean gaze steady despite her teeth chattering and body quivering. It appears that the flame in her is not so easily put out. As troublesome as it is he's always had a soft spot for strays.

He doesn't know whether her willingness to camp outside his place in order to acquire his services impresses or saddens him. He doesn't know what moves him to help this stranger: whether it is the unyielding determination hidden within those irises or his knack for taking in strays.

What he does know is that his next decision will change their lives forever.

"Welcome to Yorozuya Gin-chan. How can we be of service?"

* * *

><p>"Oryo-channnn, why won't you love meeeee?" a loud voice — hoarse from an overload of Dom Perignon — pierces Tokyo's empty streets, cutting through the silence like a knife. Despite the ungodly hour one man remains bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he stumbles along the streets, desperately looking for love from anything that moves.<p>

A few seconds later he finds himself head-first in a garbage can, heaving his guts out.

"While you're at it why don't you puke your soul out too?" Wiping away the residue vomit on his chin, the brunette removes his face from the trashcan to find a stranger standing behind him wearing a look of utter disgust. "I don't see any fun in doing it myself."

He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, "Nice to meet you, I'm Sakamoto Tatsuma" and raises his hand for a shake. "How can I help you?" Being friendly at all times of the day is an unspoken requirement for a man of his profession. Everyone is a prospective client, after all.

A tap on his shoulder jolts him out of his thoughts. "I'm over here."

Blinking twice, Sakamoto soon realises that he is introducing himself to the garbage can that houses his regurgitated dinner. Bellowing in laughter he turns to the man and hastily apologises, patting his shoulder in good humour.

"So, how can I help you?"

"Here's a question," a gruff voice sounds, befitting the man's built stature. "Which is worse? Dying in the arms of your beloved…"

Sakamoto stiffens.

"...or dying alone?"

* * *

><p><strong>This is unedited and will probably remain unedited for a bit (until I'm free enough to go through this with a fine-tooth comb). Sougo and Kagura will meet in the next chapter. <strong>

**Thanks for reading!**

**Stay golden. :)**


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